All of these lines across my face tell me the story of who I am. So many stories of where I’ve been and how I’ve got to where I am, but these stories don’t mean anything. If you’ve got no one to tell them to. It’s true. I was made for you.
I am not one who has come to be through chance. I was the divine thought of a divine Creator. I am a minor narrative in His meta-narrative. He has been generous enough to give me a minor temporary story in His eternal novel. So my story is actually His.